Love, Be Still
by IndianSpice
Summary: AU. It was strange, in fact, everything was very strange. One minute she was seeking refuge in her attic, and the next she was in a whole new world--the year 2003. Co-written by IndianSpice and ChristineCS.
1. Default Chapter

**Disclaimer: **The characters of Gilmore Girls do not belong to us. They are the property of Amy Sherman Palladino and other affiliates. We are borrowing them for the simple reason of fan fiction.

**Authors: **Yes, Chris (ChristineCS) and Priya (IndianSpice) decided to join evil forces together, upon this challenged being issued by Nate, whom we thank for this lovely idea.

****

**::Prologue::**

$3,283.59. Lorelai Gilmore wondered how far a sixteen-year-old girl in 1983 could get on that. Not far enough was the automatic reply that her brain sent back to her. She sighed and hid the money back into the box that she called Daisy, because of the fact that the flower had been painted on the cover of it. But thought better of putting it back in its hiding space, and slipped it into her purse. It gave her a nice sense of freedom when she did that. Like she was in control of her own destiny, and was going to see more than the walls of the state of Connecticut instead of staying in Hartford until graduation and then being shipped off to Yale.

It was strange, in fact, everything was very strange. One minute she was seeking refuge in her attic, and the next she was in a whole new world. Fragments of the day came back to her, mostly blurs, but she could still remember some things quite vividly. 

_Just as she thought she had lost her, Emily was right back on her track again. "Lorelai, do not make me chase you around the room! You are not four!"_

_Lorelai debated whether to stop running or not, but then, the she realized just how much she loved seeing Emily Gilmore sweat. Ducking behind the couch, she yelled back. "Gee, Mom, are you sure? Because the last time I checked, I was still being treated like I was." _

_Emily curled her hands into fists, ready to leap forward. "Stop this act of insanity this instant, Lorelai!" She took a deep breath, hoping it would calm her. "Now, I have guests coming, and I expect you to march yourself upstairs and get dressed, properly," she added when a mental image of Lorelai coming down the stairs dressed like a hooker flashed in her mind. "The Densmores are lovely people and I'm sure you'll love to meet Joel. Charming young man that Joel."_

_Lorelai rolled her eyes, getting up from crouching on the ground. "Charming young man that Joel," she mimicked. _

_Emily grabbed a tight hold of her shoulders, and hissed through gritted teeth. "This is no joking matter, Lorelai. Go up stairs. Now."_

_It was official, she hated Emily Gilmore. Lorelai trudged up the stairs, stomping harder each time she stepped—just to show her resentment. If she went to her bedroom, her mother would know exactly where to find her. She couldn't escape from the window; they had sealed it shut. And she couldn't lock herself in, they had a damn key. Looks like she would be making a detour to the attic._

Lorelai shook the memory away. Damn, that was weird. She blinked, had the attic grown more cluttered? What was all this stuff, the contents must have tripled at least. She stood up, her hand knocking down a stack of magazines beside her. Time. It would figure, nothing less than informational allowed in the Gilmore home. May as well pick up lest Emily actually step foot up in here and yell at her. As soon as she picked it up, however, she dropped it. Or well, more like threw it. It wasn't the magazine, or the photo or even the cobwebs that had made her drop it. It was the date. _October 17th, 2003_. 

Uh, that was a big no.

****

_To Be Continued…_

**Hint: Click on the little arrow button and you will get chapter one, as well.**


	2. So we meet again—for the first time

**Disclaimer: **The characters of Gilmore Girls do not belong to us. They are the property of Amy Sherman Palladino and other affiliates. We are borrowing them for the simple reason of fan fiction.

**Authors: **Yes, Chris (ChristineCS) and Priya (IndianSpice) decided to join evil forces together, upon this challenged being issued by Nate, whom we thank for this lovely idea.

**Author's Note: **Yes, we're odd. Get over it.****

****

**::Love, Be Still::**

**::01:So we meet again—for the first time::**

Spill the Beans. Yes, that was the name. Cute phrases like that had never really appealed to him, but for some reason, the name amused him so much, he went in. And he was glad that it did, because the shop became his local coffee place—small yet chic. 

Tristan casually sauntered in, nodding his head in acknowledgement at the annoyingly cheerful crowd. He scanned the room for familiar faces, hoping to spot someone and have coffee with them or just talk. It had been a while since he did either. 

Of course he was still social, he was born to be, and girls still flocked around him, but he hadn't conversed in anything that interested him the slightest.

Sometimes, he wondered, why he had even come to Yale. As always, he received his answer: a mental image of his father hounding him to fulfill his dream. However, it wasn't his dream that Tristan was seeking—it was his father's.

When he saw a waitress come toward him, he took a seat on the counter stool. Looking down through the glass, he pointed at something. "What's that big, round sticky looking thing?"

She quirked an eyebrow; humor in her tone. "That, Sir, would be our sticky bun."

Smiling sheepishly, he ordered and tentatively took a bite. Instantly, a strong burst of sugar overpowered his mouth, and he grimaced. It was official; he should've gone for Chinese. It was dinner-time after all.

****

Spill The Beans. A ridiculous title befitting this ridiculous dream she was having. 2003? No way in hell was it 2003. Lorelai Gilmore may not be at the top of her class, but she'd like to think that she'd notice that almost twenty years had passed. She checked her reflection in a nearby spoon. No wrinkles, so she wasn't approaching the age of thirty-five. So it was a dream. Just a nice little nightmare from that little ice cream and brandy splurge she and Chris had had the night before. It was all Chris's fault, there, something that made sense. Something that the waitress wasn't.  

Coffee that cost two dollars and twenty-five cents, and that was for a single. This was officially a nightmare. And the waitress was insisting that the coffee was rather inexpensive compared to a chain called Starbucks. Yeah, if there were a chain of coffee shops with a funny name like that she'd know about it. The universe was pulling her chain. First this whole 2003 thing and now with the overpriced coffee.  

****

Picking at his food, he watched customers walk in and out of the shop, but nothing caught his attention until he heard a distinct feminine voice. Curious, he glanced side ways and saw a girl arguing with the waitress. He didn't recognize her, but she piqued his interest. Plus, he liked what he saw: curly, black hair, dead white skin, and the most shocking blue eyes he had ever seen. Just then she whipped her head around and her gaze landed on his. His smothering blue eyes staring right into hers.

 Blue on Blue. 

She was worried. Freaked, even. Her rigid movements showed her fear. But of what was she afraid of, he asked himself? Then something told him to go find out.

Gazes still locked, something compelled him to walk towards her. Maybe it was the way she wanted to pull away, but he had her trapped, or the fact that her wanting to pull away made him want her even more. He wasn't even making sense to himself. If he weren't completely drowning in her eyes that that very moment, and could think rationally, he would stop. 

****

Lorelai sighed, obviously she was going to get nowhere with DreamWaitress. She looked over to the side and saw Mr. Tallblondeandhandsome walking towards her. Now there was a nice addition to this nightmare. Her attention diverted from the waitress, she took the skin on her wrist and pinched it, just to make sure.

"Ow!" Lorelai squealed, maybe a little too loudly. Damn, that had hurt. Oh hell, did that mean that this wasn't a dream after all?

He laughed, taking a seat across from her. "I don't suppose you're a masochist?"

Lorelai blinked, "A whatsocist?" She knew that word, or at least she had heard it in English class, but English had never much interested her, so she rarely paid attention.

"A masochist." he repeated slowly, enunciating each of the letters. "Someone who takes pleasure in abusing him or herself." 

"Right. Thank you for that clarification, Mr. Webster."

 "I aim to please, Miss—I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

 Lorelai grinned at him, finally someone other than Chris that could actually keep up with her. "I didn't give it to you."  

She was playing hard to get. He liked her already. "Oh, but I'm sure you'd like to. I'm sure you'd like to give me many things."

"Only my first born," she replied cheekily. "I'll tell you mine, if you tell me yours."

He leaned in closer, and responded, "I believe it goes: I'll show you mine, if you show me yours, but telling works for me, as well." By the raise of her eyebrow, he stopped his stalling, and stuck his hand out. "DuGrey. Tristan DuGrey."

Lorelai shook it He had a firm grasp. "Good, my mother always told me never to give out my name unless there was a trust fund involved." She paused. "Is there?"

"Well, since you've already offered me your first born, I believe there is."

She sighed dramatically, "But I'm not interested in a trust fund. Oh well, you'll have to do," she told him. "Gilmore. Lorelai Gilmore."

"Now that we have established our true identities, or aliases—for the time being," he paused and looked at her with scrutiny, as if trying to see if Lorelai was her true name, "let me buy you something, Lorelai." 

Lorelai was all for that; let the cute guy pay for the overpriced coffee. "If you buy me coffee, I'll let you have my second born as well."

He had given the bait, and she took it. He tilted his head to the side, resting his elbows on the table. "And by whom will that second born be made?"

"Why? You applying for the position?" Lorelai asked, crossing her arms over her chest. He would make pretty beautiful children, so if this were a serious application, he'd be at the top of her list.

Maybe she was the one baiting him. "Are there any more openings or are just teasing me, Ms. Gilmore?" He smirked, lacing an innuendo into his words. 

"Dirty," she replied, letting the 'r' roll off her tongue.

Tristan winked. "You haven't seen anything yet, darling."

Lorelai gasped melodramatically, "Double dirty!"

He nodded, taking a sip of his latte. "I am."

She giggled, enjoying herself. Despite the nagging in the back of her head that reminded her that she had no idea where she was (well other than New Haven) and really had nowhere to go. "So what brings you to New Haven, Mr. DuGrey?"

"Well, Ms. Gilmore," he replied, quickly growing fond of that name. "I actually attend Yale here."

"Smart boy," Lorelai commented. He was older than her, or was he younger? If it was 2003, that'd make her 35. Huh. This was all too confusing. "On campus or off?"

"Off," he responded cautiously, wondering why she was so eager to know. "I have my own apartment."

She sighed wistfully, caught up in the thought of freedom an apartment must have brought. "That sounds nice. Is it nice?"

He nodded again. She reminded him of a child—innocent, vivacious, curious. "It's a very nice apartment. However, as much as I like feeling independent, it can get lonely at times." 

"Better to be lonely when you're actually alone."

Just when he had made up his mind about her, she changed it. The words she chose to respond him by were embedded with pain. "Those are sagacious words you speak. Much experience?"

"Just sixteen years of it," Lorelai replied, taking a sip of her coffee. There, that was better. Coffee was a real pain reliever sometimes.

Huh. Only sixteen. Sweet, naive sixteen. "Try 18."   

She let out a heavy, heavy sigh. "Oh, so you're going to hold the fact you're older than me over my head."

"Nah," he brushed it off easily. "Over the head? Never happening. On top of me, on the other hand…"

Lorelai grinned before taking the last sip of her coffee. "Mmm. Yum. Buy me a pastry and I might be able to help you with that."

Using his hand, he beckoned the waitress, and Lorelai ordered. "Pastries," he said out loud, "the way to Lorelai's heart." He made a mental note to remember that for any future reference.__

"Only when the coffee is included," Lorelai warned him. "It's a packaged deal."

"Duly noted," he replied automatically. "Lorelai Gilmore, you are one tough cookie."

Lorelai took her eyes off the giant pastry that had been set in front of her. "Really? It's the aura of mystery I keep around me, isn't it?"

"It certainly wouldn't be anything else." His hungry graze went towards the pastry. "You gonna eat all of that?"

Lorelai blinked, "Yes." She took a bite of it. "Why? You want a piece of it?"

"That would be my reason for asking." 

"You are paying," Lorelai said in a resigned manner.

"That I am." He reached out and helped himself to more than half of the crusty delicacy.

"Depriving a homeless person of her food," Lorelai mockingly accused him. "That's so mean."

"And she's a hypocrite too," Tristan teased. Then he took a large bite from his pastry, making moaning noises full of pleasure, indicating just how good it was.

Because she was an impulsive person, and had trouble controlling her urges, her foot ended up making contact with his shin. "Very mean!"

Tristan felt a sharp pain shoot up through his leg, and let out a yelp, which was followed by string of profanities. Despite the curious glances from customers, he sat back down, tall. "Well, you certainly don't kick like a girl, I'll give you that." Then he chuckled awkwardly, embarrassed at their sitauation. "Thank God that you didn't aim any higher or that would've been the worst of me."

"No, that's the punishment for stealing my coffee," she informed him.

"I'll make sure that will never happen," he paused. "At least, I won't be in close vicinity when it does."

"It's going to pretty damn hard to steal my coffee then."

"Well," he stated, "I don't see why I need to steal and get hurt, when I can just buy myself another cup, like right now." He looked at her cup, seeing that she had almost drained her coffee and would need more soon.

"Aww, I've scared the money man away. Poor, lonely Lorelai."

"Lonely?" he asked. "I'm sure a pretty little thing like you has a boyfriend." 

Chris was the first thing that popped into her mind, immediately followed by '2003'. "Um, not anymore."

Really? He was shocked. "Oh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up."

Lorelai bit her lower lip. No, he shouldn't have. Because being in 2003 meant a lot of things. One of them was no more Chris. Chris just wasn't her boyfriend, he was her best friend. "No, it's all right. Really."

He wrung his hands under the table, feeling a twinge of guiltiness. He had asked her for his own benefits. Even though she said she wasn't, he knew she was uncomfortable with the topic, so he decided to change it, "So, hey, earlier on you said your were homeless. Is that true? Or is it that sarcasm that you love to use so much?"

"Well, I am currently without a home," she told him. It was the truth, where did she live in 2003? Not that she could go there, that'd be too weird. "That is the definition of homeless, last I checked."

 "Previous location?"

Uh, 1983. "Hartford, I guess."

"Reason for departure?" he inquired. He'd make a damn good interrogator. 

Some really confusing reason that included space and time and her ending up twenty years in the future. "Didn't want to stick around."

"Life can be a bitch."

"That it can, Mr. DuGrey."

Tristan held up his coffee up. "Here's to having a life of your own, Ms. Gilmore."

Lorelai raised her cup as well, and then took a sip of it. "And hopefully being successful at it."

He took a good look at her and he saw a determined girl who was missing something—a home, and it reminded him of 16 year-old Tristan. Of course, he melted. "Well, hey, if you can't find a place, you're more than welcome to stay at my apartment." Amidst the hubbub of the room, a thick silence blanketed their table. He had done it. It slipped his tongue. Now all he could do was wait. 

                Lorelai gulped down the remains of her coffee, pondering on what to do. She thought to herself, sure. Why not? He seemed like a nice guy.

Lorelai Gilmore would soon come to realize that guys like that simply did not exist. 

_To Be Continued…_


End file.
